


In the Thieves' Den

by candiedillusions



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, THAT SCENE in 2/2, Thieves Den, no beta we die like akechi, seriously all the spoilers are in here don't read if you haven't finished P5R
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedillusions/pseuds/candiedillusions
Summary: Ren had discovered the Thieves' Den one day. He didn't think much about it at first, but as time went by and things got tougher, Ren found it harder and harder to leave.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 227
Collections: Quality Persona Fics





	In the Thieves' Den

**Author's Note:**

> I finished P5R and I had a lot of FEELINGS about it and it wouldn't leave me alone so I word-vomited this out one night and behold, my first work on AO3 in years. Atlus sure dragged my multishipper butt into Shuake hell with this.

Ren knew that it wasn’t real when he first saw it. 

It had been a particularly trying day when Ren had pressed the star that Jose gave him against his chest - it glowed so brightly it engulfed the attic, and Ren suddenly found himself in the Thieves’ Den with all manner of reality bending to his will. He could take on the forms of his friends, think up places he’s been to before - all the weird and wonderful things he’s seen in real life and the Metaverse - and somehow it’ll be here. Sometimes even his friends would be here, oddly commenting on the things that occupied his mindscape, and they’d even challenge him to a game of Tycoon and often lost horribly to Ren’s unfairly good hands. 

Jose hadn’t done a great job in explaining _what_ this place was, but Ren was clear that it wasn’t reality. Not quite the Metaverse, somewhat like the Velvet Room... Maybe this place simply existed because Ren had wished for more time, for a place to escape to, and _this_ had appeared. 

He didn’t pop by often, even though time didn’t quite pass here the way it did in reality. He’d pop in for what seemed like hours, only to return to the real world to find that barely a minute had gone by. His friends weren’t really there, and their real selves wouldn’t experience what their cognitive versions did in the Thieves’ Den. It was fun at first, and useful when Ren got into one of his melancholic moods, but he never dwelled too much on this alternative world. There was always more prep work to be done, always another Palace to infiltrate, another mementos request to fulfil, another confidant to see in real life. 

The Thieves’ Den came in particularly handy when November came around, and Ren barely escaped the police with his life. 

The Phantom Thieves were relieved when he was back, and they hovered around him for days worried about his injuries, but Ren smiled and told them that he was okay. 

Needing to be the strong, charismatic leader that the Phantom Thieves looked up to, Ren took to the Thieves’ Den to take his deep breaths when the real world became too much. When the nightmares of the interrogation room haunted his sleep, he’d slip out of Morgana’s hold (only for warmth, the not-cat had insisted) and into the Den. 

They were the same ones each night - taking root in Ren’s fears, sinking its ugly claws into his subconscious and refusing to let go no matter how many times he jerked awake and fell back to sleep - he’d be back where he was, where the door to the interrogation room opened and revealed Akechi, all cockiness and smirks as he pointed the cold, steel barrel between Ren’s eyes. Ren’s blood would turn to ice - he had screwed up, he had botched the plan, he couldn’t convinced Sae, it’s all over and he’s going to _die_ , it’s all his fault and he’s put everyone at risk and now he’s in the worst possible scenario, staring up at Akechi and hoping and pleading that the boy he loved could be talked down from the precipice of hate and desperation and outright _murder_. It always ended the same way; Akechi would squint, spitting out the last bit of contempt at Ren before he declared himself victorious and pulled the trigger, and Ren was dead before his bloodied skull hit the table, empty eyes seeing nothing. 

Ren had learned quickly after the first two nights to muffle his screams in order not to wake Morgana, to dive head first into the Thieves’ Den until his panicked gasps had died down and his wrecking sobs had no risk of being heard. 

It was the one place he could wear his bleeding heart on his sleeve, screaming why, _why_ wasn't he enough, reeling from the betrayal, the heartbreak, the knowledge that Akechi had chosen and that his choice wasn't Ren. 

He’d give himself those precious few hours, emerging only when his tear tracks have been cleanly scrubbed. 

Ren knew he was escaping, but it helped, god it _helped_ , and he could slip on Joker's mask, take on Shido and all the other bullshit that life and its unknown entities deemed fit to throw in his direction if he could just escape for a while. 

\- 

And then February happened, and Ren’s life came crashing down around him. 

Ren didn’t even let himself believe that Akechi didn’t escape Shido’s palace the first time round, even when Futaba had declared there were no longer any readings beyond the gate. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. Akechi was strong, he was a Trickster himself, and with all his cunning and guile he wouldn’t be beat by a cognitive fake, even if it was modelled after him. 

Then Akechi had returned, against all odds, and though he kept his distance he didn’t hide his true self anymore. Ren had relished that at least this version of Akechi, while curt and harsh, was unapologetically real. And for once, he was truly fighting alongside Ren. 

But when Maruki showed up at LeBlanc that night, challenging him if that was really what both of them wanted... 

Ren had wanted. Ren wanted _so bad_ . He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ compromise on his justice, and he would never go against Akechi’s decision, but Ren had wanted so badly to be selfish, to whisk Akechi away where the cruel reality they belonged to couldn’t touch them and Maruki’s false happiness had no hold over them. He wanted and wanted, and he wanted so badly for a space for them both to just _be_. Be two dumb teenagers without supernatural powers and entities playing god pitting them against each other. Be two dumb teenagers with a chance to be friends, with a chance to heal, with a chance to love. 

But he would be just like Maruki if he did that, wouldn’t he? 

So Ren had promised, heart in his throat, to see it through to the end and steal Maruki’s treasure, even though it tore his heart to pieces to say the words, tore his heart to pieces to see Akechi and know that this was a countdown, that there might not be a next time. That the boy he loved was already dead, and destroying Maruki’s reality would take away the one thing Ren had ever wanted. 

Akechi had turned to leave, and before Ren could stop himself, he hurled himself against Akechi’s back in an embrace so desperate it must have hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” Ren had whispered, voice hoarse and broken, “Please. Goro, please. Please... Just... Just let me have this. Let me have this once. Just once. Please.”

Akechi froze, his hand lingering in the air, hovering above Ren’s grasp around his waist. He let out the smallest sigh, one Ren had come to recognise meant exasperation but not contempt, before Akechi laid his hands on Ren’s to gently untangle them from him. 

Akechi turned around and Ren saw tenderness in his eyes, a vulnerability that he had never, ever seen on this boy that was always so defiant, wearing his cruel arrogance like a second skin, but tonight Ren looked into his eyes and saw resignation and regret, saw a boy that understood that he was out of time. 

“It’s strangely apt that your Arcana is The Fool,” Akechi spoke softly, and Ren saw all the viciousness melt away as Akechi tucked an unruly strand behind his ear, cupping his jaw. Ren trembled beneath his touch. Akechi softened, slipping a hand behind his head, tangling gloved fingers in his hair, before pulling him in to cradle his face against Akechi’s collar, humming softly as Ren fell apart in his arms. 

They stood at the counter of LeBlanc for what felt like forever but too soon, Ren felt a feather-light kiss on the top of his head, before Akechi pulled away. His fingers gently brushed Ren’s cheeks, drying the tears, before pressing a chaste kiss where the tears had fallen. 

Then without a word, Akechi had left, and LeBlanc was empty once again.

Ren must’ve spent days in the Thieves’ Den before he mustered up energy to emerge, and even so barely an hour had gone by in the real world. 

Morgana had yelled at him to go to sleep, and Ren did. When he woke the next day, Joker met up with the Phantom Thieves, ready to put a stop to Maruki’s false reality. 

\- 

But Ren had woken up in a real prison cell after narrowly escaping Maruki’s crumbling palace, wondering what on earth was real and whether their plan had worked, whether Akechi was... 

No, Ren refused to believe otherwise. 

He was released soon after, and as he scrambled back to LeBlanc and heard Morgana explain to the Phantom Thieves what Akechi _knew_ and yet still went ahead to do, Ren found himself curling his fingers around a black glove stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, pressing hard enough to hurt. 

He escaped into the Thieves’ Den again once he had space to himself. 

Ren found it harder and harder to leave. 

He willed the Darts & Billiards joint into existence, because this was the one place that his cognitive Akechi came to hang around most often. Sometimes Akechi would speak to Morgana, other times he’d simply appear to stare thoughtfully at personas, but the cognitive versions never spoke to Ren. He was free to stare at the boy, memorizing the curve of his lips, remembering the feather-light kiss he had been given. 

Sometimes Ren spent hours relooking into the memory theatre, playing back the times that Akechi and him spent together. Ren couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to look away. If everything was cognition, he would rather die than let Akechi fade away from his memory. 

There were days where the Tycoon matches were a lifeline for Ren. It gave him the interaction he craved, and Ren always made sure to invite Akechi to the table. True to his real self, Akechi was the only one who really gave him a challenge. Ren could almost pretend the competitive play and snarky remarks, the accidental finger brushes and sly glances were from the real Akechi, not one that was living in his memory.

Morgana had once asked, carefully, why Ren was spending more and more time staring into space, being more detached from his friends though he knew his time in Tokyo was coming to an end. Ren shook his head, apologetic for his absence, but he couldn’t lie to Morgana, and he didn’t know to explain his grief. He didn't know if anyone would ever understand the deep, intricate and complicated bond he had with Akechi, red strings of fate tangled into unsalvageable dead knots, fingers raw and bloody from clawing at them, desperate to hold on to any end. 

Ren hadn't meant to escape, but the Thieves’ Den slowly became his solace, the one place he spent more time in than anything else, because in here there was Akechi, and Akechi was alive, Akechi was smiling and thoughtful and was a snarky little shit but Akechi was _here_. 

"Ren," cognitive Akechi had said, a deck of cards in his hands as they played their 47th round of Tycoon in Ren’s third straight day in the Den, "This is exactly the kind of brainless sentimentality I berated you for before. Why are you still here?" 

And Ren, knowing full well he shouldn't submit to his desires, knowing full well that it couldn’t be, that he was merely living a lie, shook his head and accepted that he never wanted to leave. 

"Our duel, remember?" Ren had said, "the winner has yet to be determined. You're not getting out of this so easily." 

Smirking at the hand he had, Ren placed two Jokers down on the table and claimed the Tycoon title once more. 

Cognitive Akechi smiled, though it was bitter and didn’t quite reach his eyes, placing his cards down to admit defeat. 

“24 wins to you, and 23 to me. We can’t end this way, can we? Best out of 50 matches?” 

The glint in Ren’s grey eyes slowly grew bright, pinpricks of golden light engulfing the silver till nothing else was left. Cognitive Akechi found himself staring at bright yellow eyes beneath the oversized black frames the leader of the Phantom Thieves favoured. 

“Bring it on then,” Ren said, eyes gleaming, “It’s showtime.” 

-

It took two weeks before Morgana decided he could no longer keep mum. 

“Ren,” Morgana had pleaded, two paws up against his chest as Ren spent another afternoon in bed, drifting in and out of existence, “You gotta get up, Ren. This isn’t helping. He... he wouldn’t have wanted you to live like this.”

Ren had blinked, his empty gaze finding Morgana’s brilliant blues, before rolling over in shame. He hadn’t meant for Morgana to see him this way. 

“I’m just feeling under the weather, Morgana,” Ren had lied, “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Morgana’s soft paws stopped prodding at Ren and the weight shifted off the bed. There was a long stretch of silence before he finally sighed and declared he’d sleep at Futaba’s tonight. 

“I’ll give you some space, but please Ren, make sure you eat something? Wherever you’re escaping to, know that we’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

Ren hadn’t felt shame flood his face quite like that in a long while. What was he doing with his life? He’d actively pushed away his concerned friends, choosing to wallow in his sorrow. Akechi would have been appalled. 

He sat up in bed after Morgana left, and spent hours staring at the black glove he had, but Ren didn’t venture into the Thieves’ Den again that day. 

That was how Sojiro found him hours later, when the day had wound down and the last of his customers had left. He paused at the sight of Ren looking so utterly lost, before taking off his apron and setting it aside on the couch, taking a seat. 

“Kid,” Sojiro started, “Whatever it is that’s on your mind... I’m here. I’ll listen.”

Ren curled his fingers around the glove, the only indication that he had heard Sojiro. He willed himself not to escape. He saw Akechi in his mind’s eye, sneering at his weakness, disappointed that his greatest rival only amounted to this. 

Sojiro was here, with worry etched all over his face, and Ren knew that Sojiro wasn’t the only one. Ren needed to be better. 

“Sojiro, I...” Ren started, before his voice caught in his throat, rough from disuse. 

“Go on, kid,” Sojiro said gently. 

Ren took a breath to steel himself. 

“When... When Futaba’s mom... When Wakaba Isshiki had... When she passed, how did you...?”

Sojiro froze at Ren’s question, but softened just as quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck and seemed to contemplate it. 

“It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure,” Sojiro said, “It was... I guess I was shocked at first, then I outright refused to believe it, before it finally hit me that she was gone. It hurt a lot, especially when she had suspected something might happen to her and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. I beat myself up a lot about it. In a way I still do.” 

“I guess I tried to redeem myself by taking Futaba in,” Sojiro finally said, after a long pause. 

Ren nodded, eyes still boring holes into his lap. He bit his lower lip hard and tasted blood. 

“Does it ever get easier?” Ren asked. 

Sojiro let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head, “I wish I could tell you it does, but it doesn’t. It dulls with time, but it doesn’t ever go away, and I don’t want it to either. I want to carry it with me if it’ll help me remember Wakaba for who she was - brilliant, unapologetic, and so bright. And if it comes with a little pain? Well, that’s okay. I got to see her again too, so I’ve had it better than anyone should ever have.”

Hot guilt sank into his gut as Ren lifted his gaze to look at Sojiro and suddenly found the room swimming in hot, blurry tears. 

“I’m sorry!” Ren blurted out, burying his face in his hands, “I’m sorry I took her away again, even though it was just a false reality... I was convinced it was the right thing to do to fight for our reality but... but it must’ve hurt you, and it must’ve hurt Futaba, and I’m so sorry Sojiro. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Sojiro was stunned into silence at Ren’s sudden outburst, but in a heartbeat he had crossed the room and sat down next to the boy in his charge, an arm around his shaking shoulders. 

“It’s okay kid,” Sojiro said, rubbing soothing circles into Ren’s back, “You have nothing to be sorry for, you did the right thing. Wakaba wouldn’t have wanted us living a lie.”

“It’s not okay,” Ren choked out, “None of it is. All of you deserved better. I hate what I’ve done. I took away your happiness, and here I am having the cheek to mourn her murderer, I...” 

“I can’t even feel bad about it, Sojiro, I miss him so much and I just wish he could’ve lived, why did he have to be so eager to die?! I know he did terrible things, and I know people would say he got what he deserved, but didn’t he deserve a second chance? A chance to atone? It tears me apart to know I let him die Sojiro, I did this!”

Sojiro took Ren by the shoulders and spun him around to face his guardian, shutting Ren up mid-speech. 

“Never say that, Ren,” Sojiro said slowly, his voice low, “None of this is your fault. You hear me, kid? None of it. I have never and will never blame you for it. And neither will Futaba, that I know for a fact. Okay?” 

Ren looked away, but Sojiro gently shook him to get his attention back, “Repeat after me. It is not your fault.” 

Ren did so reluctantly, and by the fifth time Sojiro repeated this, Ren was starting to believe him. Sojiro quirked his lips at the progress. 

“Good. Now you’ve got it,” Sojiro said, “but there’s one more thing you need to know.” 

“Never be sorry for mourning someone. It means you’re human. It’s human to hurt, and it’s human to grieve. It’s okay to miss him. But you’re foolish to think you need to bear this on your own. Remember what I told you at the church, when we went to visit Wakaba? You’re my family too. I will never begrudge you this, and I won’t let you suffer alone.”

“I’ve got you, kid,” Sojiro said, and Ren clutched desperately at Sojiro’s words and let himself crumble, “It’s not going to be easy, but I’ve got you. We’ve all got you.”

Ren sobbed himself into exhaustion, but as Sojiro tucked him into bed that night, he let himself believe that while things might never truly heal, he didn’t need to do this alone. 

“Do you think I’ll ever get to see him again?” Ren had asked in a small voice as Sojiro turned to leave the attic. 

“The pragmatist in me says no, but... Who knows, kid? You just might.” Sojiro had answered, “Now get some sleep.” 

Ren held the glove close to his heart and listened until Sojiro’s footsteps had faded, and the bell at the door of LeBlanc rang shut. He felt the edges of sleep tug at him as the memory of Akechi’s voice floated in his mind. 

“I’ll be the one that will defeat you,” Akechi had said all those months ago, a black glove thrown at him to declare the duel. 

“We’ll meet again,” was the promise that Ren had heard. 

No matter what, Ren would believe. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't get over how essentially Ren is a 16-year-old thrust into all of this nonsense and I just wanted to give him time to grieve okay. Let him fall apart. Let my poor boy be vulnerable and rely on others for once.
> 
> Anw come yell at me about P5 / P5R on tumblr @candiedillusions! :)


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